


Change The Channel

by weardodo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 00:52:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weardodo/pseuds/weardodo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some Peter/Stiles road-trip banter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change The Channel

**Author's Note:**

> again, popped up, written really fast, English is not my native, unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine ^^

                                       

 

“Mozart? Seriously?” Stiles rolled his eyes and topped it off with a highly judgmental glare.

 

“I’ll let you know that Mozart was ánd _is_ a very highly respected man who has produced equally respected work, ” Peter said matter-of-factly, letting his head rest back at his head-rest while closing his eyes in content.

 

“How ‘bout ‘no’?" Stiles said while changing the channel to the same hideous music-channel he’d made Peter listen to the first 30 minutes into their drive.

 

There are only so many songs about ‘bling bling’ and ‘bitches’ a man can take before seriously contemplating gauging ones eyes out, and Peter was definitely balancing on that certain line of pursuance right now.

 

“How about ‘developing some actual taste’?” Peter retorted while changing the channel back.

 

“Says the man who goes out at night to ravish little defenseless woodland creatures…” Stiles huffed while reaching for the radio.

 

“Unlike my nephew and his motley crew of werewolf adolescents, I do not _dine_ on woodland creatures,” Peter replied while slapping the boy’s hand away from the dials, getting a death-glare in return.

 

Peter felt slightly offended at the thought alone. And the fact that Stiles actually classed him alongside the rest of those incompetent nitwits… Was this really what the boy thought of him?

 

What bugged him most was the fact that he apparently cared what Stiles thought of him.

 

He knew he was going to regret it the moment he stepped into the jeep. That little shit kid was getting to him. _Again_. So much for listening to his keen instincts. _Again_.

 

“I’ll let you know that I actually have a very sophisticated and mature taste, ” he continued, trying to maintain his composure.

 

“Says the grown man who only interacts with sixteen-year olds… ”

 

_Goddamned, he should’ve seen that one coming._

 

“I know you are still talking – god forbid you’d ever keep that mouth  shut – but all I can hear is ‘whine whine whine whine’,” okay, so much for maintaining composure. _Damnit._

 

Stiles just crooked his head towards him, one side of his mouth curling upwards into a crooked smirk.

 

“Oh yeah, no, I can really see that ‘maturity’ reaching top-levels now, definitely a fledged man oozing maturity. ”

 

“God please save me from this self-inflicted torture,” Peter mumbled towards the ceiling of the car while dragging a hand over his face.

 

“Hey! I heard that!” Stiles exclaimed slightly offended without taking his eyes of the road.

 

“I’m sure you did,” Peter huffs with his head already leaning back against the head-rest.

 

Even with his eyes closed and trying really _really_ hard to maintain focused on the music, the sound of Stiles’ fingers trying to drum along with Mozart’s Violin Concerto No.3 makes him want to reach over and break all the boy’s fingers one by one.

 

He’s not going to lower himself to such drastic measures of course.  After all, he really doesn’t feel like driving Stiles’ shit-jeep.

 

The drum of Stiles’ fingers was becoming more erratic. He should find it highly annoying, but he doesn't. He actually finds the kid’s uncontrollable urge to always keep moving somewhat  endearing, which in turn annoyed the hell out of him. How long was this drive going to take anyway?

 

“Even though I just _love_ the increscent feeling of my brain trying to retreat into its former comatose state, please indulge me and tell me that our destination is currently within arms reach?”

 

“Wehelll…,” Stiles dragged as he reluctantly bit his lower lip. “That highly depends on how you define ‘arms reach’… ”

 

“Oh god,” he couldn’t contain facepalming himself fully this time. “Stiles? How long?”

 

“Another hour or so,” Stiles whispered in a single breath as he started to drum his fingers harder against the steering-wheel, alternating it with his palm. Before Peter even had a chance to grasp the ‘hour or so’ part, Stiles continued talking. _Of course he did._

 

“Hey! Did you know that Mozart had a deformed ear? Like, not Van Gogh deformed or anything, because that dude just cut off his whole ear, so yeah, that’s a really bad comparison, because Mozart was born with _his_ ear. Oh and by the way, you’re so full of it. I know damn well that Mozart was an insolent cocky little shit who took the piss out of everyone. Salzburg couldn’t stand the guy! ‘Highly respected man’ my ass – ”

 

Before Stiles could continue Peter shushed him by firmly holding up his hand and letting out a deep growl. He pinched the bridge of his nose, fully aware that he was definitely going to regret his next move.

 

“Oh for the love of – Fine! Change the damn channel!”

 

He watched how Stiles did a little fist-pump before changing the radio back. Peter just sighed in defeat as Stiles continued to sing along with some hideous ‘ooh baby baby’ song.

 

If he’d ever have to resort to killing people again, that kid was definitely at the top of his hit-list.

 

That Bieber-kid, not Stiles.

 

He likes Stiles.

 


End file.
